The Price Of Living
by Lyon.The.Demon
Summary: When three men are starved to death in the San Francisco Bay Area, the BAU unit believes it is just another case. But after Spencer Reid is captured by the UnSub, it becomes a race against time to save Reid as he struggles, doing what he can to survive.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer/ I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. If I did, there would be a hellova lot more Spencer air time. xD**_

It was a clear day; the wind was blowing lightly at Spencer Reid's plaid tee-shirt as he walked with his hands in the pockets of his brown slacks, down the sidewalk. The street, however, was oddly devoid of vehicles. Reid's eyes darted around at the buildings looming over him, seemingly changing shape slightly as he watched them. Soon, Reid found himself stopped on the sidewalk, staring at a building that was supposed to be the B.A.U.'s HQ, but instead it looked like the other buildings he had passed. Large, intimidating almost, a few lights on here and there, but boarded up. In fact…

Looking around, Reid found that all the buildings were boarded up. His brows furrowed as he wondered how he had missed that; they were in plain sight, and it wasn't like he didn't watch where he was going. With this strange realization, Reid looked up, trying to make sense of the images he was seeing; obviously this wasn't a part of Quantico he was used to, but where else could he be? The sun was shining down on his body, but there was no warmth from it, which there should have been, since it was mid July. Reid instantly rationalized that it must be the wind that kept him cool, but as he thought that, he also realized that the wind had stopped.

Frowning, Reid's breathing came a little quicker as panic started to set in. What was going on here? He got his answer a second later, as if from thin air, two teenage like figures appeared in front of him. The teens looked little older than eighteen years old, and were shivering with their arms wrapped around their middles. After a second, Reid was able to confirm one was male and the other was female. With an instinctive step forward, Reid reached out his hand to the teens, but was startled when a silver-ish glint from his hand caught his eye. He was about to drop the gun that hadn't been there before when a burly, tanned hand wrapped around his own from behind him and prevented that action.

Starting again, Reid tried to whip around to see who was behind him, but the sunny scene of where ever he had been before had faded away into nothingness. His heart pounding even harder against his chest, as the darkness closed in over him, leaving him only able to see the two silently shaking teens in front of him, Reid found himself starting to shake as well. But when he tried to voice out his distress, he found that his lips moved, but no words came out. Like a silent movie, his mind thought, even as he tried to swallow past the lump forming in his throat.

Then, almost as if they were words he had read before, or words put in front of him to read, the letters, 'O Veon East' were etched into his mind. But before he could give the letters another thought, the loud report of a gun sounded in his ears, and Reid woke with a start, his arms flying out from their cushioning place beneath his head on his desk, sending papers flying.

Looking around nervously, Reid realized quickly he was sitting at his own desk, obviously having fallen asleep while recording and documenting the case they'd just gotten back from. His computer had gone into sleep mode, and as he shakily reached out a hand to jiggle the mouse, the screen flickered brightly to life in the still dark room. Reid glanced at the clock at the bottom of his screen, finding it to be 4:15. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the odd dream he'd had, but had no trouble at all recalling the words that had flashed in his mind before the report of the gun.

'O Veon East.'

XXXX

Later that morning, J.J. and Morgan walked into the bullpen, J.J. yawning and Morgan drinking coffee from a paper cup. Each were lost in their own thoughts and thought nothing of Spencer Reid crouched over his desk, multiple papers scattered about. And while they went their separate directions, J.J. sitting down at her own desk and switching on her computer and Morgan disappearing into Garcia's computer room, there was one B.A.U. special agent who noticed Reid's almost frantic manner as he switched between looking at things on his computer screen to sliding papers around. Aaron Hotchner walked over to Reid's desk and leaned over his shoulder, looking through the different files he had pulled up. Finally, after a few minutes of watching the young man sift through the papers, Hotch pointed to a small post-it note that was stuck to the desk in full view, with nothing covering it.

"What's 'O Veon East' mean?"

Reid jumped in his seat and started to scrape up the files on his desk before letting out a small gust of air.

"You scared me." Reid said, as if that fact hadn't been obvious.

But instead of apologizing, Hotch tapped the post-it note again. Reid glanced at the note and stared at it, a frown appearing on his face as he slowly said,

"I'm not sure… I was hoping either you or Gideon could tell me."

Hotch's brows furrowed as he too studied the strange words, but he slowly shook his head, glancing back at Reid.

"I've never heard of it before. The 'East' makes me think that it might be a place, but where, I have no clue. Sorry kid, maybe Gideon will know."

Spencer had barely nodded at Hotchner when a female voice intruded upon the conversation.

"Gideon will know what?"

Both Spencer and Hotchner looked up at Elle Greenaway, having just leaned against Spencer's desk as well. But before Reid could say anything, Hotch spoke up from behind him, at the same time taking the post-it note off the desk and handing it to her.

"What this is. I think it might be a 'where,' but I'm not sure. I've never seen it before, have you?"

Elle took the note from Hotch before Spencer's slow reflexes could grab it back, and read it aloud, which of course, got J.J.'s attention. She sauntered over, a relaxed smile on her face as Elle finished struggling through how to pronounce the strange words.

"Something Spence doesn't know? My, that's a rare occurrence."

"Tell me about it. But who would know what O… Vee on? East… was?" Elle replied, looking up from the note at J.J., Reid and Hotch.

J.J. shrugged, then her brows furrowed for a second as she said thoughtfully,

"Sounds almost like a quote or something. The 'O' thing, you know?"

But before Spencer could say anything to that, Gideon walked through the doors to the bullpen, saying briefly as he walked past,

"There's been another murder in the San Francisco Bay area. Male, 24, Caucasian. Third one in three months. They're bringing us in."

And with that, Agent Gideon was already gone. Hotch was the first one to follow, followed by J.J.. Elle, however, turned slightly as if to leave, but then turned back and handed Reid the note back, saying hesitantly,

"You know, I have to go get Morgan. Since he's in with Garcia, I could give her the note; have her look it up, see what it means."

Reid let himself think for a few seconds before shaking his head and taking the note back, smoothing it back down on his desk. Without looking back up, he said softly,

"No, that's alright. It's not really that important."

Elle hesitated for a few more seconds, but then turned away and headed off to where she knew Morgan to be, leaving Reid to follow the others on his own. As he stood, he knew somewhere in his gut that he shouldn't have down played that note like he had, especially since it had come to him in that same dream that… Reid shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing his feet to move. He wouldn't think about it right now. He had a case to focus on.

_**A/N: I don't know how far I'm going to get with this story, but I make it out of not only my fascination with the show (more like obsession) but to be as great as the author of 'Lost in a Memory' by chronicler-of-knuckles. I sugguest for hard core Criminal Minds fans, or even just readers who enjoy a good story and an even greater thrill and adventure, to read it. It will keep you glued to the computer from start to satisfying finish, as well as on the edge of your seat.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Gideon faced the board in front of him, several pictures of bloody, dead bodies in front of him. Shaking his head just slightly, he continued telling his team the information he'd gathered.

"The bodies were dumped in an unspectacular fashion in several places; never the same place twice."

Tapping his finger on a map hanging from the board as well, he indicated the three circles that had been drawn on with a red marker.

"San Leandro, Alameda, and Berkeley. They were found in alley ways, far enough away from the main roads so that no one stumbled upon the bodies for a while. The victims' bodies were bruised, battered, cut, marked as if they had been struggling against restraints - "

"So we're looking for some sadistic psycho who tortures people until they die?" Morgan interrupted, his hands clasped behind his head and his chair rocking back and forth as he watched Gideon turn around to face him.

"I don't think so. Cause of death for all the victims was either starvation or dehydration."

"How long did the victims go without anything to eat or drink?" Elle asked, her tone both shocked and horrified.

Before he could help himself, Spencer chimed in,

"Statistics say anywhere from five days to three weeks, depending on body mass. If and when a person loses 40% of their body mass, the result is death…"

"So what you're saying is the UnSub knew he had time." Hotch said, from across the table, his gaze moving from Gideon to Reid.

"Most likely. Which means he probably had some type of base of operations. Some hide away where he knew he wouldn't be found." Gideon replied, before continuing, turning his back to the group to look at the board again. "All the victims were male, ages around twenty to twenty-four. The first one was Caucasian, the second one, Mexican."

"What did they look like?" Elle asked, and Gideon turned around again, flipping open a folder that had been lain on the table before all of them had gathered.

Inside were three photographs of the men, each photo pinned to a record sheet which also contained snap-shots of the crime scene. Gideon sat down in his chair, resting his elbow on the table and rubbing his temples while Hotch, Reid and Morgan each took a file and began to read. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

"Alright, Gary Garcias, twenty-three Mexican male with a wife and a five year old girl, living legally in San Leandro. Small home, not that much money, job at a shipping company. Average weight, height, no criminal record to speak of."

"Richard Torrent, twenty years old. Caucasian male, divorced, no kids. Lives alone in a small shack just outside Berkeley. Halftime worker at a grocers, overweight, short, arrested twice for public intoxication." Morgan replied.

Reid took a little longer in speaking up, but when he did, his voice was slightly squeaky, and he had to clear it before trying again.

"Says here that Danny Forester was twenty-four when he died. Had a wife he'd married about two years ago, and a baby boy who's about one and a half. Even though he lived in Alameda, he worked full time in security down at the Oakland Airport. Has a short criminal record of petty theft, auto theft, and an attempted bank robbery."

"So there's no real connection between the victims?" Morgan said, looking up at the rest of the unit.

"There has to be some connection." Gideon replied before sighing softly. "We just haven't found it yet."

"Well, maybe it was looks." Reid said softly. "Mr. Forester was lean, very little muscle, blond hair…"

Hotch just shook his head. "Mr. Garcias had black hair, though he didn't have much muscle on him either."

Morgan looked up again before looking down at the paper and reading it through before replying as well, "Mr. Torrent, like I said before, was overweight. He wouldn't have had any muscle in that flab."

"So the UnSub must not want much of a fight out of his victims." Elle voiced.

"Which means our guy either has a disability, or lacks confidence." Reid said, laying down the folder and watching the others.

"But why not go after women then? Men are harder to take down." Morgan shook his head.

"Hey, that's sexist." Elle piped up, but Gideon waved a hand at her, staring at a spot on the table.

"It may be, but it has truth to it. Women generally put up less of a fight than men do. So that means that a male is needed for the UnSub to get any satisfaction from his work."

"And as the age of the victim goes down, the age of the UnSub inevitably goes up." Reid mused softly.

"Which must put our attacker at… around forty to forty-five." Finished Hotch.

"So do we have a profile?" asked Elle, as she looked at Gideon.

Shaking his head sadly, Gideon replied, "Not even close. Grab your things, our plane leaves in two hours."

XXXX

_"Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong. No matter how fast the light travels, it finds the darkness has always gotten there first, and is waiting for it." - Terry Pratchett_

XXXX

Reid could tell it was going to be a long night. Papers were scattered across the table in front of him, as well as on his lap as he looked over the different victims and the way they had been found. Gideon had been dead on when he said they had been 'dumped.' Limbs were askew, sometimes the face was down, sometimes it was up. Like they had been thrown as far as the UnSub could have thrown them, and just left there. So the UnSub didn't feel the need to return to the scene of the crime, which rules out any affection for them. None of the lacerations they had found on the bodies had been hesitant, but they hadn't been life threatening either.

Maybe the UnSub had a split personality disorder; Reid thought. Maybe it was the need for dominance that drove him to starve his victims to death, maybe it was a vendetta of some sort that drove this UnSub to kill like this. Reid's brows furrowed as he reached for Mr. Torrent's picture again. He was standing with his arm around what Reid assumed to be his ex-wife when they were still together, smiling at the camera.

The wife, however, was looking off into the distance, a very faint smile on her face, but it looked more forced than anything. Switching his focus back to the man, Reid had to agree with Morgan; there was no way this man had any muscle under his fat. In fact, he looked a lot older than twenty, maybe about mid to late thirties. Laying the picture back down on the table, Reid brought his hand up to his forehead and began to rub as he closed his eyes. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking over everything when a voice from behind him startled him so much, Reid just about flew out of his seat.

While he ended up still seated, papers went flying as Reid heard Morgan chuckle.

"Little jumpy, are we?"

"Shut up…" Reid found himself saying before he could catch himself, his head turning toward the floor as he hurriedly tried to pick up the papers.

"Relax man, I didn't mean any thing by it." Morgan bent down to help pick up the mess, but Spencer was just finishing up righting them, so he simply stood back up and slid into the seat opposite from him.

Reid kept his head down for a few more minutes as he put the files away, setting them safely on the inside seat next to him, before clasping his hands in his lap and chancing a look at Morgan again.

"I'm sorry - " he started to say, but Morgan held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, I didn't mean anything." Then he placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, watching Reid. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I could ask the same of you." Reid replied, staring back at his partner.

Morgan chuckled again before shaking his head. "I was planning on getting a few Z's, but your rustling over here was keeping me awake." But before Reid could stutter out an apology, Morgan was talking again. "Don't worry about it though. Once I get tired enough, nothing can stop me from sleeping."

Reid watched Morgan yawn before saying softly,

"And how tired are you?"

Chuckling, Morgan said just as quietly, "Getting pretty damn tired. What about you?"

Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, Reid debated on how to answer that. Was he tired? Of course. But not only was there a case he should be worrying about, but he didn't know if that strange dream was just a one time thing, or if it would be repetitive. It was just too strange to make much sense out of it. Blinking a few times, Reid realized that Morgan was still waiting on his answer, so he admitted softly,

"Yeah, maybe a little."

Morgan nodded before he got up, then placing a hand on Reid's shoulder for a few seconds, saying, "Get some sleep then," before walking back to his own seat. Reid nodded slightly as well, though he knew Morgan couldn't see it. Maybe there wouldn't be any more strange dreams. Readjusting his position slightly, Reid lowered his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how tired he was… Within seconds, Reid was asleep, along with the rest of the unit.


	3. Chapter 3

A cold feeling rushed over Reid as he stepped into the Oakland Airport Terminal, but he thought nothing of it. He'd awoken from a startling dream that had left him shaking for an hour straight, and had been getting cold at the drop of a hat ever since. Once again, the words, 'O Veon East' were at the forefront of his mind, and he had to force them back with all the willpower he could muster.

He didn't have much time to dwell on the dream anyway, since from the airport, they were headed straight to the Sheriff's office. The place was rather large but cluttered and noisy, with phones ringing almost constantly and secretaries passing with stacks of paper work and files in their arms. The lights were abnormally bright, making Reid squint slightly so he could see as they walked through the crowded place. A large bodied man in a sheriff's attire moved through the crowd quickly toward the B.A.U. unit, and stopped in front of Hotch and Gideon, flashing an apologetic smile and offering his hand to Gideon.

"Special Agent Jason Gideon, right?" the man said quickly, seeming a little out of breath.

Gideon nodded, shaking the sheriff's hand and replying, "Good to see you again, Sheriff Manson." Then Gideon removed his hand from Manson's and turned around to indicate each member of his team in turn. "This is Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Special Agent Elle Greenaway, Special Agent Derek Morgan, and Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid."

Hotch nodded to Manson and took the offered hand when the sheriff turned to him, and shook it. "So where exactly were the crime scenes, sheriff?"

XXXX

Hotch and Elle arrived in Berkeley in about twelve minutes. Sheriff Manson waved a hand at the alley behind the Starbucks Coffee building, just off of Grand Avenue. Hotch glanced at Elle before he moved forward, lifting the yellow tape that had been splayed across the entrance to the alley, letting her duck under it before he did the same. The alley smelled like something had been rotting here long before the body had arrived, though it was hard to say in truth, since the person who had been found here was removed about three months ago. It was the first kill, and almost nothing remained at the scene, which had Hotch's brows furrowed with frustration.

Aside from a few scraps of clothing, there was virtually nothing left here for them to go on. Turning to Elle and finding her face looking as frustrated as he felt, Hotch suggested quietly,

"Maybe we'll have better luck if we question the relatives."

"Or the ex-wife," Elle agreed. "Maybe she'll have something to say about his life before this. Like if he was involved in anything dangerous or had recently made an enemy."

Hotch nodded, and together they left the scene, following the lead like a child tries to keep track of a lone string in the dark.

XXXX

Gideon was just wrapping up his own survey of the body in Alameda, behind the local café off of 18th street. Because this one had been the most recent, when they called the FBI in, they hadn't bothered to do anything with the body so it could be examined. But there wasn't that much to examine, Gideon thought frustrated. The body was exactly like the pictures had shown; cut up, bruised, battered, ect. His clothes were almost in shreds, and several pieces of fabric lay close to the body, obviously having been ripped or plucked off by rats or birds. The same with the flesh. Fighting down a shiver, Gideon closed his eyes and turned away from the scene.

He needed to know about this man's life. Maybe get in touch with his family, his relatives, friends, co-workers. The list went on and on, but would it lead anywhere? Shaking his head, Gideon opened his eyes and began walking as he pulled out his phone and punched in a few numbers, waiting. On the second ring, a confident female voice sounded in his ear.

"Office of Unfettered Omniscience - how may I help you, O fortunate one?"

"Garcia, I need you to give me the locations of all Danny Forester's living family, relations, and friends." Gideon replied.

"Oh please. Give me something that I can't do in my sleep for once." she complained, but Gideon could already hear the sound of fingers on a keyboard in the background.

But even though he didn't have long to wait for Garcia's information, his brain continued to work on the alley scene. Thanking Garcia, he flipped the phone closed and pocketed it, turning back to the alley, looking over it again. It was perfect; too perfect. Not a single hair out of place, except for the cloth that… Blinking, Gideon realized he'd been too quick to write it off as just rats having pulled at his clothes. The rips were too clean for that.

Pulling on his rubber glove, Gideon quickly returned to the body's side and crouched down, picking up a piece of fabric and examining it. It looked normal, but when he turned it over, a letter was revealed to him. L. His brows furrowing, Gideon overturned the remaining three pieces laying close to the body and found similar letters, one per each piece. They added up to either a word he had never heard of before, or some kind of code.

L - U - R - L

Pausing for a moment, Gideon shook his head. What could it mean?

XXXX

Meanwhile, Reid and Morgan were still looking over the alley, just off the corner of Estudillo and Bancroft Avenue in San Leandro. Just barely a street over was the Memorial Park, and every so often, Reid would glance over his shoulder to look that way, certain he heard crying, but would turn back to the alley before Morgan could accuse him of slacking off.

But honestly. There didn't seem to be anything here that could help them profile the UnSub, seeing as how not only had the body been removed about two months ago, but the only things that remained was a bit of the victim's blood -already tested and came out solely Gary's- and a few scraps of torn clothing the police hadn't bothered to clean up.

Finally, Morgan turned around and walked back to Reid, who had been standing at the edge of the alley, having never crossed the yellow tape. Morgan ducked under the tape before bringing his hand up to his head and massaging his temples as he said softly,

"I couldn't find anything that would lead anywhere. What about you? You catch something from that genius point of view or something?"

Ignoring the humorless jibe, Reid shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Man!" Morgan said forcefully, his teeth clenched. "It's like this guy knows how to clean up after himself, even while he makes it look like a random dumping…!"

Reid's eyes widened slightly, staring at Morgan even while his brain started piecing things together. He knows how to clean up after himself. There was little blood at the scene despite all the wounds the victim had received. Not a single thread of hair, which should have been if the body had been tossed or thrown or anything of the like. Nothing out of place, except for…

Reid suddenly pushed past Morgan, who was staring back at Reid impatiently, having known that far-away look enough to know he was onto something. Ducking under the tape, Reid moved over to the pieces of cloth that was lying on the ground. Crouching down, his rubber glove already being pulled into place, he carefully picked up first one piece of fabric, then the others, turning them over. And on each of the four pieces there, was a letter in black ink.

D - I - A - H

Reid looked up at Morgan, who was already by his side, and found he had already flipped open his cell and was tapping his foot on the ground, evidently waiting for Garcia to pick up.


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch rushed back to the alley, ducking under the tape while pulling on his rubber glove. Because Elle's stride was short compared to his, he got there first, crouching down next to the pieces of cloth and carefully turning them over. How could he have missed it? Damn it, he was stupid. Looking up at Elle and seeing her arriving by his side breathless, still holding the phone to her ear, he listened to her relate to Morgan the letters they, too, had found.

After each letter came a pause, most likely so Morgan or Reid could write it down.

"D… E… N… K." another pause. "Yeah. I know, it almost seems like gibberish. … uh huh. We will." she snapped the phone closed and pocketed it, looking at Hotch solemnly. "We're headed back to Oakland. Gideon said this clue could be - "

"I know." Hotch interrupted. She didn't have to say it, he knew. It would either make or break the case, seeing as how there was nothing else.

Standing up, Hotch brushed himself off and began taking off the glove, but paused a moment before bending down again and taking an evidence bag out of his coat pocket. He didn't think there would be any prints or blood, but everything was worth a shot.

XXXX

Reid was staring at the letters in front of him, knowing they made sense somehow when his phone went off, startling him. He fumbled around in his pocket for his phone, but since it was set on vibrate, it was hard to hold, and in his startled state, he almost dropped it. Hoping Morgan hadn't seen his little episode, he flipped open the cell and stuttered out an answer.

"D-Dr. Sp-Spencer Reid…"

It was Gideon's voice that came over the line.

"Reid, I think I've stumbled onto something. There was - "

"Pieces of cloth at the scene." Reid finished for him. "Each with a letter in black ink on it."

"Yeah. Any idea what lurl means?"

"Lurl?"

"Yeah. L - U - R - L."

Before Spencer responded, he wrote down those four letters on the small paper that he'd written down the other eight on. Then taking a small breath, he shook his head, even though Gideon couldn't see it.

"I don't think it's a word, I think it's some kind of scrambled code."

The line was quite for a moment, then Gideon suddenly said,

"Do the best you can to crack it, but meet us in Oakland. There isn't that much out here for us to find, and I'm getting worried about the team being broke up like this." - click.

Without concern, seeing as how most phone conversations with the team ended up like that, he flipped his cell closed and pocketed it again, still staring at the letters he'd had written out in front of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized Morgan had asked him who that was. Responding softly, his eyes and most of his mind still focused on the paper,

"Gideon. Wants us to meet him and the team back in Oakland…"

"Then lets go." Morgan said simply, but Reid held up a hand to still him.

There was something here. In Reid's mind, the letters were constantly switching and re-arranging themselves, moving so rapidly that…

That was it!

But the moment of surprise and achievement quickly passed into shock and horror as he looked up at Morgan, his breath caught in his throat.

"What, what is it?" Morgan asked, as usual, impatient to understand what Reid had figured out without him.

Swallowing, Reid forced his mouth to work again. "It says… 'Kill a hundred…'"

"Kill a hundred? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Morgan shook his head, shoving a hand frustrated through his hair.

But Reid didn't dare tell him he'd already figured out what it meant. In the same moment he'd seen the letters fit themselves together perfectly, he'd also figured out what 'O Veon East' meant. It was a code, and it was meant for him…

'To save one, kill a hundred.'

XXXX

Morgan had just started for the car that would take them back to Oakland when a shrill scream erupted from the park next to them. It sounded like a little girl's scream, and as a simple reflex, Morgan was off and running in that direction, leaving Reid wide eyed and staring at him for a few seconds before following as fast as he could.

Reid was breathless when he finally caught up to Morgan, who had stopped in the center of the park and was looking around, trying to pinpoint where the scream had come from. Glancing behind him quickly to ensure himself that Reid was still behind him, he took of in another direction, obviously following instinct, as the scream had already stopped. But before Reid could follow, he heard a whimper from the bushes behind him. Turning around quickly, his hand went down to where his gun was - before he realized foolishly that he didn't carry a gun anymore.

Calling softly, he said,

"Who's there…?"

Another whimper found his ears before a young girl's head - she couldn't have been more than seven - poked out of the shrub, her face soaked and stained with tears. Quickly stepping forward, Reid tried to get through the shrub to the little girl, afraid she'd been hurt somehow, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realized not only was he out of view of everyone in the park - which there weren't that many there anyway, but still - but there was an unmistakable click of a gun just behind him. The little girl seemed to sob a little harder, but was amazingly quiet this time.

"Hands where I can see them, Agent." came a deep, gruff voice from behind Reid.

His heart pounding and his eyes wide, Reid slowly raised his hands, out a little so whomever was behind him could see them easily.

Morgan continued to move through the park, growing more and more frustrated as time passed. What if somebody abducted the child and he was right there, but couldn't stop it? What if the UnSub suddenly changed his MO and was now targeting children? Damn it, what if? Turning around, he looked around for Reid, starting to run a hand through his hair again, but stopping cold when he realized Reid wasn't anywhere behind him. Moving back the way he came, he tried to comfort himself with the fact that he'd been running. Maybe he just had to stop and take a breather.

But after a few minutes, even that possibility didn't look very promising. Yanking his cell out of his pocket, he punched in Reid's number and waited as it started ringing.

But Reid never picked up.

XXXX

"Agent Gid - " but Gideon didn't get any further than that before Morgan's loud and rushed voice started shouting in his ear.

Moving the phone slightly away from his ear and trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time, since he was already driving back to Oakland, he heard all to clearly that Reid was missing. And it was all he could do not to punch the gas and turn the car around.

The rest of his team was already headed back to Oakland, as was he. So when Morgan asked if he should stay and keep looking for Reid, Gideon made the hardest decision of his life.

"No. Come back. I won't risk losing you as well." and shut the cell.

Groaning and resisting the urge to close his eyes with regret, Gideon continued down the road, Sheriff Manson looking at him strangely from the passenger side, but thankfully asking nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

Morgan stepped quietly into the room, his guilt for letting Reid get captured making him believe that every head in the ever busy work place was watching him. It made him think that every one knew what had happened, how it was all his fault, and that they all blamed him for being negligent. This only made him hang his head a little lower and drag his feet a bit as he headed over to where he saw the team standing.

All with the exception of Reid, that was.

Damn it, how stupid could he get?

Hotch was the first to notice Morgan's late arrival. And though he said nothing, Morgan could almost see the condemnation in his eyes as he nudged Gideon. Looking up, Gideon said something Morgan couldn't catch before leaving his team standing and staring as he walked over to Morgan. Swallowing, Morgan opened his mouth to apologize, but Gideon cut him off.

"Don't. I won't say I'm not disappointed in you, but we have to make the best of what's given to us. We have to assume that Reid still has his phone on him, and if he does, then Garcia can track its location. If it's really our UnSub who has him, we'll have them both."

Through his short speech, Morgan was silent, thinking over just how Gideon had managed to make him feel not only worse about what happened to Reid, but better because this way they might have a shot against the UnSub. Hesitating only a moment, Morgan finally nodded and Gideon began to turn away but stopped, and looked back.

"It wasn't your fault, Morgan." Gideon said softly, and then he was walking back to the team.

But Morgan knew better. It WAS his fault. Reid should be here, helping to find leads to the UnSub with the rest of the team. Instead, because of him, Reid could very well be on his way to starving to death at the hands of a maniac.

XXXX

Very slowly, odd little details started flashing through Spencer Reid's mind. A little girl sobbing in front of him… an unrecognizable voice behind him… a sudden, intense pain that exploded through the side of his head, then just… blackness. The world was devoid of color and he was floating along, his limbs relaxed and useless.

For a second, he was content to just close his eyes and let the darkness pull him back under, before everything came back in a rush.

Someone had kidnapped him!

Groaning, Reid's first thought was 'Not again,' but then he was occupied by other thoughts as he realized his groan had been muffled. Some type of cloth had been wrapped over his mouth to prevent him from calling for help.

Opening his eyes as wide as they could go, he rationalized that he must be someplace dark, as it didn't feel like there was anything over his eyes. Testing his arms and legs, he had just come to the conclusion that he was tied up when Reid found himself flung sideways into a velvet-like wall.

A muffled 'Uhmph' escaped from his lips as he tried to right himself as best as he could. This was just wonderful; he was trapped in the trunk of a moving vehicle.

XXXX

Both hands were on the wheel; positions at ten and two. Complete silence reigned in the cab of the dark blue Impala; not even the radio was on. Brown eyes darted every few seconds from the abandoned road ahead to the rear view mirror, to the speed gauge. Just under the 55 speed limit. No one was following, and everything was perfect. Except, a vibrating sensation startled the UnSub, originating from the pocket he'd placed his salvations' cell phone in.

Carefully taking his left hand off the steering wheel, he dug into his pocket for the cell and pulled it out. Only a name flashed on the screen as it continued to vibrate.

_Garcia._

Smirking to himself, he turned off the cell instead of answering it, and tossed it gently into the passenger seat. Returning his hand back to the proper position on the wheel, he heard a voice from the same direction he'd just tossed the phone,

"Don't they know it's against the law now-a-days to talk on a cell phone while driving?"

Taking pride in his decision not to answer it, the UnSub sat up a little straighter, his eyes resuming their ever vigilant darting.

XXXX

"Damn it!" Morgan yelled, slamming his fist into the nearby wall.

But Garcia was still talking.

"Even though it's been turned off, I was still able to get a signal while it was ringing. Seems they're headed out of state, though where they're headed, I haven't the slightest clue."

There was a pause over the phone, and Hotch leaned down into the speaker, saying softly,

"Garcia, where ever they're headed, is there any way tracking is still available?"

"Not unless someone turns Reid's phone back on again, sugar."

With a muttered, "Don't call me sugar," Hotch stood back up and made way for Gideon as he strode quickly over to the phone as well.

"Garcia," he began seriously, "Did you find anything on those cloth pieces that Hotch sent you?"

There was another pause before a soft,

"Yeah. Prints. They belong to a… Kenith Charger. Male, forty-eight, slim and fit. Recently slipped away somehow from a psych ward in Indiana."

"Could be our guy…" Elle said softly, but Gideon was already giving orders again.

"Find out as much as you know about him then. I want to know where his family lives if they're still alive, where he worked before he was admitted to the ward, and who all had contact with him while he was in there."

A small sound came over the phone that Gideon could only take for Garcia's rapid typing, and though he'd expected a witty quip as usual, the only answer he received from her was a hushed,

"Yes sir…"

XXXX

Reid wasn't sure how much time had passed. A few minutes, an hour, a day; it was hard to keep track when he was drifting between consciousness and that deep blackness that was always with him. Twisting his arms and legs a bit, he felt a familiar tingling sensation that told him blood flow was returning rapidly. Which was good, but it still hurt like hell at this point.

Dimly, Reid wondered how long he could survive in a trunk. How long would it take for what little air remained to run out and suffocate him?

Reid's eyes were closing again, the need to sleep trying to make itself known again. At the back of his mind, he thought he should at least _try_ to stay awake, but was startled when he felt the car jerk to a halt. Was he at the UnSub's safe place, his hideaway, or somewhere in between? Was this even the UnSub? What would happen to him? His eyes widened and his heart began beating a tattoo against his chest as a car door slammed.

Though he failed miserably, Reid tried to control his panicked breathing as he heard footsteps just outside where he was trapped. Then the trunk popped open and lifted at the same time, sunlight streaming in and blinding Reid for a second. But then, as his eyes adjusted, several details came to him at once.

All kinds of greenery was behind the person now standing in front of Spencer's sight. A few trees, but a sign for a rest stop to the right. They must be just off an interstate or something of the like. Then Reid noticed the dark colored sweat suit, but it was worn and torn in many places. It showed the man had money, but just barely enough to get him by. He was probably around 5'7, well taken care of hygiene wise, with no facial hair or piercings. The short black hair on his head was combed back, almost in an Italian style.

But then Reid's attention flew to the man's left hand as it reached into the trunk of the car; for Reid. But again, details kept flooding Reid's brain even as he struggled to move further back. The man must be a left handed person, and the slightly pale ring of discolored skin around his third finger told Reid that he was either divorced, his wife had died, or he didn't want anyone to know he was married.

And then all thought and detail came to an abrupt halt as Reid couldn't scoot back any farther and the tanned hand wrapped around Reid's throat tightly. A thumb was pressed against the pressure point there, and then all Reid could see were little black dots floating around in his vision.

In the back of his mind, Spencer knew he'd only pass out, but for those few seconds of pain, it felt as if he were dying.

XXXX

Lifting his hand off the kid's throat, Kenith looked down at his now unconscious form. Somewhere, back in the depths of his mind, he realized that he shouldn't be doing this. But then a voice from behind him argued,

"Don't be fooled by looks. This kid is your ticket to salvation; you can't pass that up…!"

Blinking a few times to clear his head, Kenith nodded and shut the trunk, leaning against the car as he replied,

"Yeah, you're right, John. I'm sorry."

The UnSub turned around to look at his friend, but the strange stares of the people around him caught his attention.

"What are you people looking at?" both Kenith and John said at the same time.

But to the people around them, only one voice had been heard; only one person had been seen.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N : Sorry this one took a little longer to get put out. I've been swamped at home and busy either doing other work or sleeping. So once again sorry, and here's another chapter for all you readers, and a special thanks to KASEY64 for sticking with the story by reviewing every chapter. It really helps me. Thanks.**_

Following the directions that Garcia had put on the GPS, Hotch sat in the driver's seat, listening to the conversation behind him. He didn't want to think of it as eavesdropping, but seeing as how they were in the same vehicle…

"Why would the UnSub travel all the way down to California if he was just going to leave, moving almost across the entire United States?" Elle spoke.

"I don't know… Maybe he suddenly got cold feet after picking Reid up; knowing we'd be doing anything we could to get him back." Morgan said softly, and then there was a pause before Elle spoke up again.

"You know, Morgan, it wasn't your fault…"

Hotch heard Morgan's heavy sigh as if he were sitting right next to him instead of in the back next to Elle.

"Yeah, it was, Elle. I should have been there for him."

"Actually, Morgan, you shouldn't have." Gideon suddenly said, earning him a sideways glance from Hotch before he returned his eyes to the road, though Gideon didn't notice it, as he was looking back at Morgan. "I've been thinking about what I said to you before, and I was wrong. Reid's a lot stronger than any of us give him credit for. If it had been a choice between staying with Reid or running off to save a child in danger, the child was more important; more helpless."

"Yeah, well, I'm the one who feels helpless now." Morgan said softly.

"We're going to get him back, Morgan." Elle tried to comfort him, "Nothing will stop us until we do."

Another silence fell in the vehicle before Gideon's phone rang. Picking it up, Gideon flipped open the cell and pressed the speaker button and answered,

"Gideon," and Garcia's voice filled the interior of the vehicle.

"I've pulled up just about everything I can find about your guy, Gideon. Says here… that he lived in Crawfordsville, Indiana for the first twenty years of his life before moving to Vandalia, Illinois, where he got a job as a bartender at a place called The Moose. Didn't hold the job for more than two years, however, and in 1974, Charger moved back to Indiana. His mother and father let him move back in with them, so the guy lived with his folks until June 2nd, when he admitted himself into the Oaklawn Psychiatric Center in Elkhart, Indiana."

"Wait, wait, wait. Garcia," Morgan interrupted. "You mean this guy actually went there, knowing it was for mental people, and… _enrolled himself_?" his tone disbelieving.

"That's what the records say, sweetness. They had him in for Supervised Group Living after diagnosing him with very mild BPD. The treatment supposedly only lasts a year at most for any patient, but from either a bribe, a liking to the guy, or extra needed treatment, the guy stayed there for 22 years. Then he just, mysteriously disappeared."

"Does it say why he stayed for so long?" Elle asked.

"No. Nothing about that, or what happened to him. He just kind of… drops off the records."

"Garcia, I want you to send the directions to the Center to my cell. I'll find a ride after we get to Charger's place and head on out there to see what I can find." Gideon announced.

"I'm on it," Garcia said softly, and just seconds later, Elle spoke up.

"I'll go with you."

Things were silent for a few more minutes, and before anyone else could speak, Hotch found he couldn't hold in his question any longer.

"Garcia, you said Charger was diagnosed with mild BPD, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Garcia asked, but as usual, Gideon caught on to the possibility quickly.

"Garcia, what's the success rating on the patients who complete the program?"

"Um…" the sound of fast typing could be heard, then she spoke again. "That's funny. They have every case down as 'Successful Treatment,' so I'm guessing 100%."

Hotch chanced a glance at Gideon, but he was staring off into space with a look he often got when he was thinking; hard.

"I don't get it…" Elle said softly. "What's that got to do with the UnSub?"

"Because," Answered Hotch. "If Charger's BPD got worse rather than better there, it would be a blemish on their otherwise spotless record."

"Which would explain why he stayed as long as he did." Garcia reasoned.

"And it also explains why at the three crime scenes, nothing was found to incriminate him like finger prints, hair… Nothing but the cloth with a single print on each of them, along with a black letter that collectively spelled 'Kill a hundred.'"

Morgan shook his head, saying, "Okay, you had me, then you lost me again."

Gideon turned so he could face both Elle and Morgan as he then said,

"He was sending us a message. One that didn't really mean anything else except 'Help me.' In severe cases of Borderline Personality Disorder, the UnSub believes he is either followed around by a person that no one else can see who tells him what to do, or is possessed in some way by another soul or spirit, rarely being that of an outside force like an alien."

"Which means that it must have been the weaker personality that tried to send that message, after the stronger one cleaned up the scene in an effort to make sure they wouldn't get caught." Hotch continued.

"So maybe we can reason with this weaker personality of his, and get him to give Reid up without a fight…!" Elle said excitedly, but Gideon was lost in thought again as he spoke.

"If we get past the stronger, more organized one, because I'm sure he won't go down without a fight."

The group continued to talk about possible leads and ways they might coax Reid's location out of Charger when they found him, when Hotch looked down at the GPS, then at his surroundings as he turned down a small, residential road.

"Gideon, we're here." he said softly, and Garcia promptly said her goodbyes, not wanting to get in the way of the team.

Hotch turned into a small driveway that ran into a one-car garage, with a sidewalk leading up to a small, two story house. Putting the car in park and turning off the engine, Hotch turned around to look at the team before four sets of doors opened simultaneously.

XXXX

The sound of crying was becoming too much for Spencer Reid's ears, but as hard as he tried, he knew he couldn't stop it. Watching the young girl in front of him helplessly, he continued to work furiously at the rope binding his hands behind the chair in which he sat. He felt close to crying himself as the large man to his left, still pointing a gun at the little girl sitting - curled into a little ball was more like it - against a wall, said again,

"This is your last chance. Either help me, or she dies; it's your choice."

Trembling, Reid started shaking his head, his face contorting slightly into a pained expression as he whispered,

"I can't… I don't know how to…!"

Even Reid heard the terror in his voice, so he was sure the UnSub had as well. He just didn't show it, or just didn't care. The gunshot startled Reid enough to almost knock both himself and the chair over, but thankfully it stayed upright. The shaking was worse now, and hot tears were streaking down his cheeks now.

He should have been able to save her…

Almost as if reading his thoughts, the UnSub lowered the still slightly smoking gun, looking at Reid with cold, brown eyes as he said,

"You killed her, you know."

Still shaking his head, Reid tried to speak through the lump rapidly forming in his throat.

"I… I'm not the one… w-with the gun…"

Chancing a look at the UnSub, Reid felt a small pang of hope even through the pressing despair as he noticed how the UnSub's eyes seemed to widen as if with shock. He looked down at the gun in his hand as if he were wondering how that got there, but then a mask of indifference slammed down and he nodded.

"It was your choice. Maybe next time you won't waste a life trying to get on my nerves."

Then the UnSub turned away from Reid and moved out the steel door, slamming it shut behind him. Reid heard the deadbolt slide home, and turned to glance back at the body of the little girl the UnSub just left there. Blood was pooling around her head on the floor, because when she'd gotten shot, she'd hit the floor on her side. Closing his eyes, Reid tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, but it didn't stop the shaking, or the tears still sliding silently down his face.

His breathing slightly irregular, Reid swallowed, hard; he felt as if he was going to be sick…


	7. Chapter 7

"My baby boy…" said Anna-Rose Charger, sitting in her rocking chair and staring at Hotch indignantly, "My sweet, lovable Kenith would never, never do something like what you have come here accusing him of."

Hotch started to comfort the old woman, try a different approach to finding more information about Kenith Charger, when Morgan moved off the wall he'd been standing against, saying rather loudly,

"We're not accusing him; yet. Someone took one of our agents and your 'baby boy' is the only lead we have! His fingerprints were at the scenes of three dead bodies!"

"What Morgan is trying to say, ma'am, is that we simply need to find your son to question him. That's all." Hotch said as quickly as he could, but it seemed as if the old lady didn't hear him.

Her widened eyes were riveted on Morgan and her hand came up to her chest, holding it as though it hurt. Then she suddenly reached over to the small coffee table beside her chair and picked up a medicine bottle. It made noise as her shaking hand tried to get a pill out of the bottle, and she placed it on her tongue, grabbing and taking a drink from a glass of water that was on the table as well. Then silence filled the room as Anna-Rose simply sat in her chair, then staring at the floor while still clutching her chest with her left hand. It was Elle that finally broke the silence.

"Mrs. Charger…" she started to say. "May we… speak to your husband for a little while…?"

Anna-Rose was silent for a few moments still, but reluctantly replied without meeting any of the agent's eyes,

"Not anymore… J-Joey passed away about… a-a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Elle said again, but this time Anna-Rose interrupted her with that same, indignant tone.

"No your not. None of you are. Out. I want you all out; get out!" her voice raised to almost a high pitched scream on that last word, startling Elle and Morgan.

Taking a small breath, Hotch turned to the two agents and said softly,

"Come on, let's get out of here," but when Morgan tried to protest, Hotch held up his hand and nodded to the door, the unspoken order showing clearly in his eyes.

Morgan raised a hand to rub his head while Elle stood up, and together, they both walked to the front door, leaving it open for Hotch, who was close behind them. But something caught Hotch's attention before he crossed the threshold, it was Anna-Rose's voice, but this time it sounded more shaky and panicked. But the words she was speaking… they made no sense until Hotch turned around. He saw the old woman, looking at her lap and running her hand over thin air as if petting something, muttering,

"It's okay… it's alright, sweetheart, the bad men are gone… They won't bother us any longer…"

Without hesitating a moment longer, Hotch joined the rest of his team, which were standing by the black SUV, waiting on him. Hotch looked at Elle first, then at Morgan, and said softly,

"We're on the right track, at least. Mental disorder seems to run in the family; Mrs. Charger has Schizophrenia, I believe."

XXXX

"I'm sorry sir, but all records of our patients are confidential."

Gideon sighed softly. How many times would he have to explain this to the staff here at the Oaklawn Psychiatric Center? Looking at the green-eyed nurse steadily, Gideon took out his credentials and showed them to her, saying softly, and with more patience than he felt,

"Look, I'm with the FBI. I need to know about a Kenith Charger. Lives depend on the information I can come up with. Lives." Gideon stressed that last word, trying to gage her reactions to his demeanor and voice.

She looked between him and the badge, which Gideon still held up for her to see. The look on her face slowly changed from indifferent to worried, to confused, and then to indecision, as if she had been warned against what she was thinking. Taking full advantage of her momentary weakness, Gideon said again, trying to catch her eye,

"Please. You'll be saving people…You'll be saving this man from himself…"

The nurse was shaking her head as she started ringing her hands, but her legs started moving down a hallway to their right, and Gideon followed. With as close as he stayed, so he wouldn't lose her, he couldn't help but hear her mumbled,

"They're going to fire me for this…"

XXXX

Reid was still shivering a lot. Wrapping his arms around his torso and pacing the length of what he assumed to be the basement of some kind of building, he relished in the small joy that moving afforded him in the midst of all this horror. About an hour ago, - or was it two? It was too hard to keep track down here in the dark… - that man came back down and took the body away, telling Reid again how it was Reid himself that had ultimately killed the kid.

But then that remorseful look had crept back into his eyes, and Reid had been untied, and left alone to pace the empty space. The empty… dark; place. Reid shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold that had seeped through his skin to his bones. He hated the dark… Taking a deep breath, Reid brought his hands in front of him and rubbed them together, wincing at the pain where he had rubbed them raw, trying and failing to open a locked, steel door.

He'd already looked over the entire place after the UnSub had left. No windows, only one door; hard, concrete walls. Even if he yelled, he didn't think anyone would hear him, so he didn't try. What would be the point in wearing his voice out now…? His eyes restlessly searching the dark for anything that could help him, they fell on a darker spot of grey on the floor. But in his mind, Reid knew it wasn't really grey; it only looked that way from the lack of light.

It was red, and it was the spot where that young girl had died.

_'You killed her, you know.'_ the UnSub's voice rang through Reid's head again.

Gasping softly, Reid yanked his arms away from his torso to throw over his head, hoping to block out the voice. He didn't want to hear it… He hadn't been able to do anything… It wasn't his fault! Feeling suddenly dizzy and very sick to his stomach, Reid let himself drop to his knees on the hard floor, his eyes shut tightly to the ever encroaching darkness around him.

And then, in the silence, his stomach growled a protest; demanding sustenance that Reid didn't have.

XXXX

Yawning loudly, Garcia walked back into her computer room with a small cup of coffee, and her eyes instantly flew to the screen that was solely devoted to tracking Reid's cell. If it ever turned back on, that is. Sitting down, Garcia placed the small cup on a coaster on the desk, then began to rub her aching temples. She was used to staring at computer screens for hours on end; she wasn't used to being this stressed out about it.

"Poor Reid…" she said softly as she opened her eyes again, glancing around at the multiple screens. Each held a different page up, information streaming through or focused on certain records and such.

She felt so helpless here… Of course, Garcia being Garcia, she knew how much she helped the team and took every chance she had to brag about it. She knew how important she was; but it was only in times like these that she doubted that over-confidence. She wondered why the hell she was here, just sitting around doing nothing while the others were out in the field, pursuing leads as they found them. But that thought quickly exited her mind, as she knew she was no profiler.

Picking up her coffee, Garcia took a small sip of the hot liquid, relishing in the way it burned her tongue and throat as she swallowed.

"There has to be something I can do…" she said aloud again, before setting down the cup.

And then she was thankful that she did. Garcia nearly jumped out of her seat seconds after she let go of the still almost full cup when the phone rang. Shaking her head and trying to catch her breath, she reached out and tapped the speaker button on the phone, saying,

"He who seeks the 'Queen of All Knowledge,' speak and be recognized."

"Has anything come up yet?" Morgan's voice filled the room.

"No. The phone hasn't even been turned on. No new information, but believe me, I'm still digging." Garcia sighed.

Then there was a pause on the other line, and Garcia could hear a faint voice in the background that sounded like Hotch, and then Morgan was speaking again.

"Hey, do you think you could go back to those pieces of fabric, tell me what kind of clothing they came from?"

Her fingers already typing away, she replied,

"Can birds sing?"

XXXX

Doubling over, Reid was finally forced to face the fact that he was just too cold and scared to move anymore. Swallowing a few times, he continued to try to strain his eyes in vain, trying to see anything he might be missing in the darkness that continued to press against him. Telling himself that he shouldn't panic, that no one else on the team would panic if they were in his situation, only helped a little. Swallowing again and trying to fight back the bile rising in his throat, he wondered how far the team had gotten so far in the investigation.

Had they already figured out who took him? Were they on their way, or better yet, there already? _'Oh God,' _Reid thought to himself, closing his eyes tightly again._ 'They have to find me.'_

A loud noise caught Reid's attention, startling him into a standing position, his arms reflexively wrapping around his stomach again. The steel door opened and the UnSub stepped through the doorway before slamming the door shut behind him. And then the sound of a small child crying hit Reid's ears and he couldn't hold it back any longer.

Reid leaned over and emptied what little contents of his stomach there was on the cold floor beneath his feet.


	8. Chapter 8

Morgan's phone went off just a few minutes after the three agents had driven off from the Charger home. He picked up his cell and pressed the speaker button so that Hotch and Elle could hear as well.

"You got anything for me, Garcia?"

"Mmm," Garcia hummed brightly. "I always have something for you, hot stuff."

"Focus, Penelope." Hotch said from the driver's seat, and Morgan could swear he heard Garcia blush.

"O-oh, um, y-yes sir. It turns out that there wasn't really much to go on from those pieces of fabric you sent me, except for the fact that there was a bit of dirt on them. But not just any old dirt; specific, high-brand potting soil."

"Any clue where the soil came from?" Elle asked, and Garcia replied,

"Tons. All over the States, hun."

"So it's really no help then." Hotch sighed.

"Sorry… It was the best I could do." Garcia said softly.

"Don't worry about it baby," Morgan muttered. "We're on our way to pick Gideon up; maybe he'll have figured something out."

"Garcia," Hotch suddenly called out, before Morgan hung up the phone. "I want you to check records. Tell me who bought large quantities of that particular soil in the two weeks."

"Will do…" she replied, and then the line went dead.

XXXX

"I told you to save me…!" the UnSub's voice was starting to get louder, his finger laid dangerously on the trigger of the gun he was holding to the kid's head.

Dimly, Reid noticed that this time the child was a boy as he pleaded with the UnSub.

"I don't know how to…! Please, I don't know what you want me to do!"

"Save me!"

"How?" Reid practically sobbed.

He was cold, he felt sick, he was scared, and there was a gun pointed to a small child's head in front of him. Reid could barely think about what was going on without feeling dizzy and disoriented, so when the UnSub spoke again, his voice was a little distorted to Reid's ears.

"You have to help me."

Reid felt sick again, but without letting his eyes dart to the little boy, Reid realized that he was scooting backward, toward the door. It couldn't have been locked from the inside, so all he would need to do was just yank it open and take off in a run. If Reid could stall the UnSub for a little while, maybe they could both make it out of here alive and well…

"H-how do I help you…? What do I need to do?"

The UnSub looked at him for a few seconds, almost as if Reid were suddenly crazy, but Reid held his breath before trying again to ask him what he expected of the captive he had taken. But before Reid had gotten any words out at all, the gun went off. The kid, however, made a break for steel door, throwing it wide open and darting out, having scooted backward enough that the gun had no longer been pointed at his head. The UnSub quickly gave chase, Reid forgotten for that few seconds, and Reid took his opportunity to run as well.

Reid found that behind the steel doors was a long, tight stairway that the kid and the UnSub had already cleared, leaving Reid in the claustrophobic place, struggling to force his legs to climb the stairs instead of pooling like limp spaghetti on the floor like they wanted to. Step after agonizing step, Reid knew that if he didn't hurry, he'd once again be at the mercy of the UnSub with a failed attempt at escaping under his belt. That was sure to be bad, Reid reasoned, and doubled his efforts in climbing the stairs. He had just reached the top without hyperventilating, as he feared he might, when he heard a loud report of a gun and a sharp cry from what he assumed was the little boy.

Reid knew that if he wanted to survive, he had to get out and do it now, but part of Reid started remembering the first kid that was shot in front of his eyes. That had been his fault too… No, it hadn't been, the UnSub had only said that. Reid shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts straight. He had to find a way out of here. Shooting a quick glance around, Reid found out he was standing in the middle of a kitchen, and that there was a pair of sliding glass doors that had been broken recently, as the glass was still on the floor. Sending up a silent thanks to whoever was listening that the UnSub hadn't taken his shoes, Reid made a beeline out the door and into the overgrown yard.

And into a dead end. Surrounding the yard was a seven foot high, wooden fence. Looking hurriedly around, Reid saw nothing he could use as a stepping stool, and jumped when he heard another gunshot from behind him, still within the house. Then there was just silence, and Reid knew he was running out of time. As quickly as his shaking legs would let him, Reid scurried over to the drain spout, testing it with his hands, hoping and praying to a God he had never really believed in. The drain spout seemed to be able to hold his weight. Gripping the spout, Reid tried to hoist himself up as high as he could go, then lunged for the top of the fence and landed with the wood under his arms, holding on for dear life as his feet pushed and kicked at air before finding the side of the house.

There was a sudden, angry yell from behind Reid, but he was past caring, because suddenly he was falling, and the ground was rushing up to meet his face. Turning quickly, trying to control the damage done, Reid hit the ground with a loud thud. Fighting off the darkness that tried to pull him under, Reid fought to raise himself off the ground and onto his knees. Things blurred in front of his vision, but slowly Reid was able to make out several buildings along the street; all boarded up, like they hadn't been used in a long time. And then it hit Reid; he'd seen this place before in that dream he had.

His body was shaking worse now; he hadn't been able to do much than get onto his knees, and was in that very position when he heard the UnSub coming out of the house and hurrying up to him, grabbing his arm and yanking Reid painfully into a standing position, aiming the gun under his chin and forcing his head up.

"You can't leave!" the UnSub shouted at Reid, causing the younger man to flinch and try to draw back, which only made the already painful grip tighten. "You're gonna save me! You won't leave until it's time! I won't let you!"

His vision still slightly blurry, Reid found himself being dragged beside the UnSub, pain exploding throughout his limbs. And then everything was dark again.

XXXX

The second Gideon slammed the door of the black SUV, he was talking quickly.

"Turns out Charger's worse than we thought. His mild BPD was full blown within two weeks of coming in to the treatment center, but they wouldn't discharge him because like we figured, it'd be a blemish on their perfect record, which isn't so perfect. There's actually a lot of things wrong with the facility, including the meds they put their clients on. That's what manifested Charger's alter ego he calls John. John's assumed the assertive-dominance role that Charger never displayed through his years of growing up. Also while he was in the facility, he kept a journal. Two different pens, two different writing styles, two different entries for each date; one writer. Charger.

"Within the journal, he talks about all kinds of things, but the one thing that comes up the most is the delusion that he's slowly becoming a monster; not in our sense, but he sees himself as changing form, morphing almost. It's probably another side effect from the drugs they had him on, but the line I saw most in that journal was 'To save one, kill a hundred.' Sound familiar?"

"The kill a hundred part does, but what's that supposed to mean, Gideon…? I thought you said before he was crying out for help?" Elle asked worriedly as they sat in the parking lot of the facility, listening avidly to Gideon.

"He is. But he's also trying to save himself in the only way his brain knows how to. He's going to kill a hundred people, trying to save himself from 'morphing.' But once he does and he finds that it didn't work, he's probably going to try and kill another hundred,"

"Or he's going to kill himself." Hotch finished for Gideon, turning around to look at all of them.

"Which means he's going to kill Reid…" Morgan said softly, his face starting to become pale.

Just a few seconds later, Morgan's cell rang, and his slightly shaking hand pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, saying,

"Go Garcia, you're on speaker."

"Oh, you're no fun," she whined softly, then started in before anyone could say anything to her comment. "Turns out you were onto something, Hotch. Sick little Kenith purchased eight large bags of that potting soil six days ago, and charged it to a credit card." she chuckled. "Not a smart move on his part. He's in Vandalia, Illinois."

Morgan's head snapped up, looking at Hotch worriedly.

"That's at least a four and a half hour drive from here…!"

"Then we'd better get moving," Hotch said softly, with a calm none of them felt.

_**A/N : FINALLY! ^_^ Alright, here you go, like I promised. I'm going to try and write around the writers block that had been plaguing me with this story, but if it's a little lame, sorry. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter, and I look forward to trying to write more. Also, don't forget to read more on my other story, A State Of Mind and cast your vote. Should Amy live, or should she die? It's your choice. And if you don't feel like reviewing, just check out my profile and click the poll I have up. Thanks again for reading.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Reid awoke from the darkness he'd come to hate; to fear. His breathing was somewhat subdued because of the state of unconsciousness he'd been in, but it sped up when he realized that things were dark again. Testing his hands, Reid found they were tied behind him, very tightly and painfully, and the motion sent jolts of pain up his arms, causing him to wince. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from uttering a cry, afraid of exactly where he was, and where the UnSub was. Slowly moving around as best as he could, feeling around with his hands and face, Reid determined that he was back in the trunk of the UnSub's car, though he couldn't feel any movement at all.

It was either parked, or they had been in a wreck. And it was that last thought that got him close to yelling out for help. If the UnSub had been killed, then how would he get out? Reid bet that the trunk was locked, and who would help him? Who would come across them until it was too late and he died from asphyxiation? Sitting up as best as he could, Reid hit his head on the top of the trunk, causing him to bend back over and almost fall down again with the sudden pain. Trying not to breath too deeply, but not to fast either, Reid sat up a little slower this time, then trying to knock on the trunk with his head, his shoulder, raising his feet to knock on it, harder, then harder still. And soon the only pounding Reid could hear was in his head.

But then Reid was startled when the trunk finally gave way under his feet and he fell backward, against the very back of the trunk, hitting his head once again. His eyes stared frightfully at the UnSub, who was watching him with that crazed look on his face before reaching in. Doing the only thing that he could think of, Reid suddenly lashed out with his feet and caught the UnSub on the chin, forcing his head upward and causing him to take a step back, but then the UnSub's hand snaked out again, quicker this time. His hand caught Reid's feet before he could kick out again, and the larger man yanked Reid out of the trunk, paying no heed to how Reid's head hit not only the side of the car, but the pavement as well.

Unable to hold back his cry this time, Reid whimpered at the pain exploding through his head, squinting his eyes open. His breathing almost stopped right there, and Reid vowed to never take a dream for granted again.

XXXX

Morgan was sitting in the very back of the SUV, his thoughts in turmoil. None of this would have ever happened if he'd only stayed with Reid; kept an eye on him like the kid thought he always did. Hell, the kid thought of him as a brother, for God's sake! Some brother he was, sitting around doing nothing when Reid could be off getting killed by a crazed UnSub!

Morgan jumped when a hand came down on his shoulder, and his head snapped up to meet the eyes of a certain Aaron Hotchner, who was watching him with an odd softness the team didn't often see, even though there were worry lines etched on his forehead and around his mouth. His voice was soft, so as to not draw the attention of the others in the vehicle as he said to Morgan,

"I know what you're thinking, but it really isn't your fault. It could have just as easily happened to anyone of us."

"I still shouldn't have abandoned him, man…" Morgan said pitifully, but then the hard look to Hotch's eyes was back.

"You didn't abandon him. No one here has abandoned him. Where are we going, Morgan?"

"To Charger's place in Vandalia…?" Morgan asked rather than stated, his brows furrowing.

"Exactly." and that was all Hotch said before turning back around, moving back to sit more comfortably in the seat he was sitting in, right in front of Morgan.

Thinking over what Hotch had said, Morgan turned his head and looked out the window, at the trees and cars and the road flying past them as they traveled well over the speed limit, their lights on and the siren going. Maybe he was right… maybe for now, this was all they could do…

But damn it, it just wasn't enough…!

XXXX

Fighting off the blackness at the edges of his vision, Reid half walked and was half drug by the UnSub's painfully tight grip on his arm. Their images were blurry, but Reid could make out two teenagers, one female and one male, looking exactly like the two that had shown up in his dream. Glancing around, he noticed that the buildings were all boarded up like in the dream too, but then he was yanked forward again, and the darkness threatened to pull him under. Stumbling severely, Reid tried desperately to catch his balance before he was yanked forward again.

Turning his weary eyes back on the kids, Reid noticed for the first time they had shovels in their hands, and… and… Reid furrowed his brows, certain his mind was playing tricks on him now. But the UnSub shouted something that was lost on Reid's ears, blood roaring too loudly in his ears for him to hear much of anything. Both kids looked up and quickly moved away from the hole they had been standing over as the UnSub and Reid approached. Then Reid was yanked to a halt just before the hole, and Reid started shaking; the hole he had been placed in front of looked more like a makeshift grave than anything. And over a few feet from the hole, was bag upon bag of potting soil.

He meant to bury Reid… alive or dead?

Shaking vigorously now, Reid tried to step back, but ended up backing up into the UnSub, who promptly pushed him back to where he had stood before. Barely, just barely, Reid caught the UnSub's voice from behind him.

"Ninety-nine and One-hundred. Three people here, two die. You'll save me either way, you choose, you choose. Save me now!"

Then Reid felt something moving against his hands, and then they were free. Swallowing, Reid was about to make a break for it when something cold and metal was suddenly placed in his hand, two big burly hands holding it in place and slipping Reid's long, slender finger over the trigger. The UnSub then forced Reid to turn toward the teenagers, the gun pointed in between the both of them, and the words,

"You choose, you choose…" were repeated.

Dimly, Reid realized that the UnSub's hands were shaking as well, and the slight motion behind him after the statement had been a tick, brought on by a sudden stop of medicine for mental problems. Maybe… just maybe, if Reid could stall him, then maybe someone would find them, and call the cops. Or even better, the cops would just happen upon them and everything would end happily ever after and…

Trying to shake his head, Reid knew he had to stay focused. Licking his lips, Reid tried to ask if the UnSub had been having a problem with his meds, but the only thing that came out of his dry mouth was,

"A p- … A pr- … A…"

The sudden report of the gun made Reid jump, his ears ringing sharply and causing him to wince in pain, his eyes shutting tightly but unable to shut out the image of the teenaged boy falling, a blood stain already forming on the front of his shirt. Then Reid was shoved forward onto his knees, the gun yanked out of his hand. Landing on his face, Reid just laid there for a moment, tears welling up in his eyes. It wasn't fair… he had to do something to save them…

"Up… up, get UP!" Reid heard from over him, then something grabbed his hair and yanked him upward, and for a second everything was black.

But slowly, things started taking shapes and regaining color, and Reid blinked several times, trying to clear them and his head. The girl was still standing in front of him, tears running silently down her cheeks and her arms wrapped around her torso tightly. Dimly, Reid wondered why they hadn't run, when his foggy brain finally made the connection.

These kids looked like the UnSub. They were HIS kids…

"You choose, you or her, you choose and save me already!"

So that's what it was then… Shaking his head slightly, Reid tried to clear his increasingly foggy mind even as he reasoned it out. If Reid chose the girl to die, Reid would probably have to either shoot her, or bury both of them in the hole that had been dug. If he chose himself… then maybe the girl wouldn't die… yet…

Shaking his head again, Reid's legs threatened to give out on him, but the hold on his hair kept him painfully half-upright. The blackness at the edges of his vision weren't just at the edges now; there were little black dots floating around in his line of sight, and his mouth didn't want to work. Licking his lips a bit more, Reid tried to force the word through a lump in his throat, but the only thing that came out was a stuttered and whispered,

"M… m-me…"

_**A/N : Alright, I'm getting tired of waiting for reviews and for the poll that no one seems to be taking, save for two people. So I'm going to wait one more day, and around tomorrow or the next day, a choice will be made as to whether Amy lives or dies in my other on-going story, A State Of Mind. So if you want your vote to be counted and considered, cast it quickly. I have the poll up on my profile page, but you can also cast a vote by simply giving me a review saying which you'd prefer. Anyway, getting close to the end of this story as well, and hope you liked this chapter.**_


	10. Chapter 10

Still barely able to stand let alone see straight, Reid only vaguely made out the form of the teenage girl picking up the dead form of her brother by the arms, and moving him slowly toward the hole before closing her eyes and pushing him over the side. Reid was unable to hear the dull thunk the body made upon hitting the ground because of the ringing in his ears. Then he, too, was being drug over to the hole, and then he was falling.

And Reid just kept falling…

XXXX

"We need an exact location, Garcia…!" Hotch said tersely, his eyes scanning the outskirts of the small town that called itself Vandalia.

"Got it, alright, um… t-the corner of South Stone Street and West Johnson Street…!"

Gideon punched the gas a bit harder, the lights and siren still going. It was still about ten minutes away, and Hotch knew this. The urge to hit the dashboard was becoming stronger now that they were so close… They had to make it; they just had to.

XXXX

The falling had finally stopped, and Reid simply had a not un-pleasant floating feeling. Once again it was very, very dark, but it didn't seem to bother him that bad this time. Reid was swimming in a pool of utter blackness… nothing there, just… a floating feeling. Being suspended above air; above time. Nothing existed; all was a mere shadow, an extension of himself. But… there was something else there, as well. Something he thought he should realize, but knew that his mind was almost too fuzzy to comprehend it. And then the sudden feeling of being crushed nestled it's way into Reid's brain, forcing his eyes open. But his eyes suddenly stung and Reid closed them again, trying to bring his hands up to rub whatever had gotten in them away, but found that his arms wouldn't move.

Something was filling his mouth and nose, making it hard to breath, and dimly Reid realized that he must already be in the bottom of the hole. And then all logic turned to panic as he opened his mouth again to cry out for help; it did no good, however, as more and more dirt piled upon him, forcing itself in through his mouth and nose, cutting off his air supply and laying heavily upon his body.

Coughing a bit of the dirt out only to have it replaced by more, Reid whimpered, trying and failing to cry out for help.

"Daddy… daddy please, I wanna go now…" the girl was crying, but Kenith paid her no heed and continued dumping the soil into the hole, feeling pressure lifting off his chest.

He could see John standing on the other side of the hole, smirking and looking relieved as well. They had finally done it! Now he would be saved from that stupid curse his father put on him. Kenith's face slowly changed from relieved to bitter as he remembered that final day when his father left.

"_You're crazy, Anna-Rose." a large man said to a woman sitting in a rocking chair, holding air with both her arms and looking up at Joseph Charger with tear filled eyes._

"_You're crazy and you always have been, and you've made our child crazy!" he continued before Anna-Rose finally spit out,_

"_I did not! It was your doing, Joe! You're the one who made such a big deal out of an imaginary friend! Did you ever stop to think that all kids have them?"_

_Looking around the corner, the small Kenith listened with tear filled eyes as his parents continued to argue about the way he'd behaved earlier. He'd just been talking with the kid down the street, and all of a sudden his dad had come up behind him, yanked his arm, and walked him quickly back into the house and sent him up to his room. The yelling continued._

"_Are you a kid?" he yelled, and Anna-Rose just about hissed at her husband as she replied in the same loud voice,_

"_Of course I'm not!"_

"_Then what the hell are you holding?"_

_This time, Anna-Rose paused, and looked down at her arms before looking up at her husband again, saying softly,_

"_It's the kitty I found a year ago, you know that, Joey… Now please, let's not fight. We're scaring her…" she said softly as she began to stroke the air lovingly and Joey threw his hands up into the air before pointing a finger at her._

"_You and your crazy mental state, Anna-Rose! You and your kid will be the death of this family! How many people will your son kill before he stops thinking that there's people out there that aren't really there? A hundred?"_

_Those had been the last words Kenith heard his father say before he left the room, heading to the bedroom they had shared for so many years, to pack his things. Turning around himself, Kenith had been just about ready to head back to his own room when he stopped dead in his tracks; the kid who called himself John was standing right in front of him, holding a finger to his lips in a gesture to be quiet. Then he whispered to Kenith,_

"_You heard him. Maybe if you kill a hundred, all the people that think you're crazy will stop thinking that way and see you like a normal person again." John smiled. "Maybe your mom will get better, too!"_

_Kenith's eyes went wide, and he nodded, barely even noticing his father's shaking head as he watched his son watching and nodding to air._

"Hands in the air, Charger!" the sudden cry brought Kenith out of his thoughts and he turned around swiftly, only to be tackled by a large black man holding a gun.

XXXX

"Reid!" Gideon yelled, but there was no response.

The SUV had just barely been put in park before the agents were leaping out, guns raised and aimed at Charger. The agents had fanned out, and Elle was just kneeling down in front of the teenaged girl who had her arms wrapped around her stomach as she watched the older woman with tear filled eyes.

"I know you're probably scared right now, but I need you to tell me something. Can you do that?" Elle asked, and was encouraged when she saw the girl nod her head. "I need you to tell me if a grown man with brown hair is around here."

Once again, the girl nodded and her eyes moved to the mound of freshly placed potting soil, and every agent felt a chill run down their spine. With a,

"Everyone get a shovel!" from Hotch, it was a race against time.

XXXX

Reid started to open his eyes before the burning sensation from before was remembered and he quickly closed them again, tightly, resisting the urge to open them again. His body still felt weighted down and he was floating somewhere between darkness and consciousness, but he was conscious enough to realize that he didn't have that much trouble breathing this time around. Strange, last time there had been dirt every where, weighing on him; suffocating him… Now, there was just sweet, valuable air…

Taking a chance, Reid slowly squinted his eyes open only to have his ears met with a sudden cry of,

"Guy's, he's waking up!"

Reid cringed, his ears starting to ring again, and a voice that sounded like Elle's that was suddenly closer and softer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright, Reid?"

But before he could answer, another voice that was easily discerned as Hotch's found his ears as well.

"Don't crowd him, Elle. Give him a little breathing room."

"Easy for you to say, Hotch." that voice had to have been Morgan's.

Reid could hear a bit better through the fading ringing, and noticed foot steps coming closer to his side, and then a large, warm hand gripped his own semi-tightly. It was Gideon's voice he heard close to his ear,

"I know you've been through a lot Reid, but if you can, tell me you're alright. You don't have to say anything, just… squeeze my hand, nod your head, open your eyes, anything you're comfortable with. Tell me you're alright, Reid…"

It took Reid a few seconds to register exactly what Gideon had asked of him, and yet another few seconds to actually get his hand to squeeze Gideon's. But with his eyes closed once more, Reid didn't catch the relived looks of his teammates, nor did he completely catch Gideon's last statement of,

"Sleep, Reid. Sleep and rest up…"

_"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars." - Khalil Gibran_

**END**

_**A/N : Thanks for the sudden increase in reviews! I don't know exactly how lame this ending is, but here it is anyway. Thanks for sticking with the story even though I had a major writers block for the longest time. And also some time tonight the next chapter for A State Of Mind will be up, and then I'll go from there. Don't think this will be the last you hear from me, though, for I fully intend to make more stories and hope all of you faithful readers will enjoy the tales I try my best to spin for your enjoyment. Also, I hope you liked the small little insight into Kenith Charger's mind I gave this chapter, and greatly hope it explained a lot of his actions from before, how after a while he just didn't care about who he killed since he was coming so close to his hundred. Anyway, thanks again for reading and sticking with me. Have a good day!**_


	11. BONUS

_**Quick A/N : Alright, this goes out to Paineverlasting, just for the simple fact I'm on, I'm bored, and I can't really think up any new story lines completely. I am thinking, however, and I hope to start posting again within the next few days. Anyway, thanks again for the quick review, and here's a few months after the end of chapter ten.**_

Reid's hands passed over the objects on his desk as if he'd never seen them before. He'd been back at the Bureau for a month, a week and three days now, and things still seemed strange. His brows furrowing, Reid picked up a small note book and flipped through the pages before replacing it where he'd found it. His hand then reached out and jiggled the computer mouse, and the screen instantly flickered to life, lighting up his dark desk. It was barely even six in the morning, and since it was fall now, the days were starting later and later, staying darker for longer in the mornings. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Reid stood back up before moving over to the coffee machine, and starting that up too, then rocking back on his heels as he waited.

Then turning around, Reid looked back at the dark and empty bullpen with eyes that still wanted to droop closed. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, but then again, when was that new? The thing that had been keeping him up recently was the dream he'd had before all of this started. How in the world had his unconscious produced those realistic and almost future-predicting images?

'To save one. O Veon East.'

A scrambled message in a clear dream… Shaking his head, the coffee machine forgotten for the time being, Reid moved back to his desk and sat down in his chair, rocking backward slightly. His computer had already gone on sleep again; had he really been away from his desk for that long? Reid shifted position to go check on the coffee again, even though he was sure he'd just sat down again, when the chair shifted with him. Suddenly over come with a strong need to do something he hadn't done in a long while, Reid brought his feet up into the chair and tucked them underneath his legs Indian-style.

XXXX

Hotch entered the bullpen about thirty minutes later, and was very surprised to find his youngest agent not only there that early in the morning, but spinning in his office chair, stopping only to pick up the paper cup full of what he assumed was coffee from his desk, take a sip, then return to spinning. Every time he would start to slow, his hand would snake out and he'd push himself off the side of his desk, and his speed would increase. Hotch observed this strangely childish behavior with a slight smile on his usually grim face. It was about time Reid started to show some life in him again.

For the first few weeks after he had started coming back to the bureau, Reid had been very withdrawn, keeping more to himself than anything. He'd reach out and touch things as if seeing them for the first time, as if for the last time, and that had really worried both Hotch and Gideon. Sure, he guessed the other agents had noticed and worried as well, but Hotch had understood just how much Reid had to lose thanks to Charger.

There hadn't been any bottle rockets yet, but if Dr. Reid was spinning in his office chair, things must be getting back to normal in that larger-than-average head of his, Hotch thought, his smile widening a fraction. And then the smile was gone as Hotch debated his next move. Would he scare Reid if he said anything? He sure as hell wasn't going to stand here all day, waiting for Reid to notice him, that was for sure. Finally deciding to just ignore Reid and hope he wouldn't be too mortified, Hotch shrugged out of his jacket and turned, proceeding toward his office.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Reid suddenly stop spinning and make a grab for his coffee, flipping open a folder and lowering his head, as if he'd been reading. Resisting the urge to chuckle softly, Hotch continued on.

XXXX

Reid was sitting in the round-table room with the other agents, watching the screen flicker from crime scene to crime scene as J.J. continued to brief them on their newest case. The UnSub, who kills with a single gunshot wound to the head, seemed to be executing his victims from a period of over four years, his first kill dating back to June of 2001.

"Damn, when does the line of son-of-a-bitches end?" Morgan said, shaking his head.

"Dating all the way back to 2001?" Elle asked incredulously, and when J.J. nodded her head, she asked, "Do we even know how many people died from gunshots then?"

And Reid suddenly found he couldn't be quiet any longer.

"Actually, did you know that in 2001, 29,573 people died by gunfire in the United States according to the US Department of Justice statistics, and that the 29,573 deaths in 2001, while a staggering number, actually represented a 25% decline in firearm associated deaths from a peak in 1993 of 39,595 deaths? Of the actual gun-related deaths in 2001, 57% were suicides, 39% were homicides, - that included justified shootings by law enforcement personnel and gun owners - 3% were unintentional, and 1% are written down as unclassified…"

Reid then trailed off, blinking and licking his lips unconsciously, suddenly very aware of all the heads turned toward him; watching him. And then everyone was smiling and Morgan was reaching out, patting Reid's back hard enough to pitch the young man forward slightly, even as Garcia's voice rang happily through the small room.

"Our genius is back!"

And then there was laughter, the case momentarily forgotten.

_"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it." - Helen Keller_


End file.
